


Escape

by Elucubrations



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 4x16, German, M/M, Translation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:55:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elucubrations/pseuds/Elucubrations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is devastated when he learns he has broken the First Seal. He cuts himself off from Sam and sinks into a depression, until Castiel shares with him that he's going to fall from Heaven. Spoilers for 4x16. Translation from German.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of 'Ausbruch' by Velence. (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7252708/1/Ausbruch)  
> Check out my page on fanfiction.net! https://www.fanfiction.net/~tiichan17

He had taken the Impala and gone.

Dean had said goodbye to the world of the hunters. He'd left a note for Sam on the bedside table of his motel bed. He hadn't waited for his return. Only lied when Sam asked what was wrong. The lies fell easily from his lips, because it didn't matter.

Physically, things were looking up, even though the wounds inflicted upon him by Alistair had not yet all healed. The mental ones wouldn't heal at all; maybe they'd look better superficially, with a pretty façade. Alistair had broken him, again, or perhaps simply torn open the scabbed wound. There wasn't a difference.

As if on autopilot, he drove aimlessly through the country. South seemed like a good direction to him; in any case it was warmer than the dull weather here. If he'd thought about it, a destination might have occured to him, but he didn't want to think. Dean had stopped once, to get himself something to eat and drink.

At some point, Sam called. Dean threw a quick look at the screen and pushed it away. After Sam had tried a few times, he turned the phone off.

He stopped by a Motel 6, parked his car round the back, booked a room and lay down to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Dean woke with a start. He sat upright in his bed and breathed heavily in and out. A nightmare. A damn nightmare. He rubbed his face. His mouth was dry.

The room was grey and drab. He'd forgotten to close the curtains. In the pallid light, Dean staggered to the window, shut the curtain and sat himself on the edge of the bed. He took a large swallow of Jack Daniels and lay down. The alcohol burned pleasantly. His body felt so heavy that he quickly fell asleep.

Dean slept through nearly two days. Between times, he drank, ate and pissed.

After a few days, Sam had tracked him down. He'd driven around the parking lot and seen Dean's Impala.

Sam hammered on the door. He tugged on the doorknob. It wasn't locked. Sam stormed into the room.

"Dean! Dean, what are you doing here? You left without a word," he snarled at him.

Dean squinted at him, rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up in the bed. He leaned against the headboard.

"Didn't you read my letter?"

"Of course I did. I don't understand –"

"I'm done." Dean scratched his neck, disinterested. He had a dull grin on his lips.

"'I'm done'?" echoed Sam, shaking his head. He gazed at him in complete disbelief.

"That's what I said."

His brother stretched out his hands. "You can't just stop being a hunter. An angel pulled you out of Hell to stop the Apocalypse. They're not going to let you go so easily. I'm not going to let you go so easily!"

"What does the end of the world interest me? I was replaced by a brunette demon skank. And Sam? I don't know who he's been replaced by. Maybe demon's blood leads to personality changes, what do I know? You've said I'm not strong enough. I'm not cutting it. Yeah, you're right, I'm not strong enough. No game, no lies, I can't do it anymore." Dean said everything without poison or fervour in his voice.

"I said those things under the siren's influence. We said things that we didn't really mean."

"Spare your words for someone who believes them." Dean took the bottle from the bedside table. He slowly unscrewed the lid and unashamedly drank.

"And this is your solution," Sam snorted.

"Do you know that song from the Toten Hosen? Never mind." Dean waved him away. "I've had enough of burying friends. I've had enough of fighting a fight that's already lost." Dean thought of Pamela's burial. He'd felt deadened, unable to cry – not that he enjoyed crying in public – but he was weary, done, not sad.

"Do you want the Apocalypse?"

"You want Lilith's head, nothing more. That reminds me of Dad, who you always looked down on because of his craving for revenge. Why are you hunting her again?"

"Now I'm being put into question?" Sam proclaimed.

"Sam, enough is enough; if I didn't know you, I would hunt you. I don't know who or what exactly you are anymore." He let his hands fall onto the blanket. "But that doesn't matter to me either. I've given up. Is that not clear?"

Sam growled something. "So you want to stay here, then?" he asked brusquely.

"Here. Somewhere else."

"Call me again when you've come to your senses," grumbled Sam. He regarded his brother as if he were a riddle. "At least turn your phone on."

With these words, he left his brother behind. The door hung open. Dean had to move in order to shut it. Dean had expected more, more from Sam, but his appearance had in fact proven what he'd thought about Sam. The Sam that he knew was gone.

He did Sam the favour of turning on his phone. He'd missed several calls. They were mostly voicemails from his brother; he listened to the two from Bobby and then deleted them all. He couldn't help him.

Dean drove on and looked for a new motel, so Bobby and Sam wouldn't be standing at his door again. He bought himself something to eat at a fast food chain. His appetite was rather thin. He avoided listening to the radio or reading the newspaper. He changed channels on the TV as soon as the news appeared somewhere. He didn't want to know what it was like around the world.

Alistair hid in every one of the gyri of Dean's brain. His dreams were gaudier than his days and nights. Dean had suffered enough, now he was done. It was a miracle that it hadn't happened earlier. He didn't manage to break out of his depressive mood. He didn't fight it once. He'd had enough of fighting.

It was as if Dean was trying to escape through sleep into a different world, until in his dreams, Alistair shooed him back into sobering reality.

Dean had a definite feeling of lost time. Occasionally he thought Castiel was in the room, but as soon as he was really awake and looking around, there was no one there. He was alone.

It was in the early afternoon when he got up and shuffled into the bath. Bent over the sink, Dean sprayed his face with cold water. Afterwards he inspected his face in the mirror. The purple-coloured bruise around his right eye was barely visible anymore; on the other hand, the cut on the bridge of his nose was healing as slowly as a snail. He touched the forming scar with his finger.

At least he wasn't feeling any more pain.

He supported himself with his hands on the washbasin and flashed his reflection a grin that more resembled the Joker than a Disney film. His superfluous alcohol consumption was gradually showing itself outwardly, too. He looked worn out, even with the hours spent sleeping. Dean's heart twisted as he thought of what he'd done in Hell. His own gaze scared and simultaneously disgusted him. Towards what he had been capable of. He almost expected to have to see black eyes in his reflection.

Dean took his towel and quickly dried off his face.

"Fuck, Cas!" spat Dean. In the mirror he saw Castiel standing behind him. "You really need to break that habit, or one day I'll piss my pants."

"Apologies," responded the angel seriously.

Still tired, Dean traipsed back into his room. Castiel followed him. He went to the window and pushed the blinds slightly to the side to let daylight in. The light blinded Dean at first. He held a hand before his face.

"Cas."

The angel let the blinds drop and turned around. He looked the same as ever, in his trenchcoat.

All of a sudden, Dean was sure that his feeling hadn't deceived him. Castiel had already been here once, without allowing himself to be seen. As toneless and immobile as Castiel stood there, he thought for a moment he had succumbed to a fantasy.

"I expected you earlier," Dean said finally. He sauntered the last steps to his bed and sat down cross-legged. He grabbed for the bottle on the bedside table with one hand. He leaned on his bare legs but drank nothing. "Recite your lines already. I'm to blame for the disaster, the Apocalypse. I broke the first seal. Come now."

Castiel directed his attention to him. "You are not at fault for that. It is your fate."

"I hate fate."

Castiel approached the foot of his bed. "I need to talk to you."

Dean shook his head defensively. "That's gross."

"I..." He remembered what he'd said to Anna. He was considering disobedience. No – he was already one step further. "I spoke with Anna. I have doubt. One does not doubt God."

"You don't believe in the mission anymore? Does that mean...what does that mean?" Dean asked, genuinely surprised.

"I could be cast out of Heaven." The otherwise so certain Castiel appeared suddenly troubled.

"Cast out?" echoed Dean.

"They will kill me. Or worse. In times like these, it is high treason."

"Guantanamo behind Pearly Gate 66? But... you're Teacher's Pet Number One. As pernickety as Uri – was."

"I wanted you to know," answered Cas, now more self-assured once again.

"Can't you do something? They can't just kill you!"

"I am an angel. If I don't do what God wants, then I am not an angel." Castiel went to the table and sat on a chair. He absent-mindedly smoothed his coat over his knee. "I was happy that we didn't have to destroy the town on Hallowe'en. If that had been my assignment, I would have destroyed the town with Uriel's assistance."

"Not before we'd tried everything..." Dean objected.

"Yes..."

"Do you know _Lost in Translation_? 'Can you keep a secret? I'm trying to organise a prison break. We have to first get out of this bar, then the hotel, then the city, then the country. Are you in or you out?'" Dean quoted the film. Cas' eyebrows rose in mild question "Okay, the film was boring, but Scarlett's hot."

"I do not understand."

"You could escape, hide."

"They will find me. Anywhere."

"Don't tell me you don't have any tricks on hand." Dean snapped his fingers. "You sent me into the past. You can beam yourself. Come on, Cas..."

Castiel stood up. "An angel will always be able to find another angel."

"So what do you do?" Dean looked at his bottle of alcohol. When he looked up, the angel had – not unexpectedly – disappeared. "Cas!" yelled Dean. Sullenly, he grumbled, "The angel that you have called is currently unavailable."

The following night, Dean dreamed of Graceland.

"Simply inspired. Look at the Cadillac. Not my colour, but awesome. Or the Thunderbird!" Dean gazed enthusiastically at Elvis' car collection in an outhouse. He turned to his companion on his right. "I'm dreaming."

"I wanted to speak with you alone. They're spying on us where possible," answered Castiel.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So much for alone. Should I think of something dirty as a diversion?"

"My superiors are monitoring my relationship with you with wariness." Castiel ignored Dean's comment entirely. "Uriel said I had a weakness for you."

"What a sneak..."

"It's true. I listen to you. I learn from you, from your ways of seeing. You are courageous, you don't let yourself be intimidated and try to help people by all available means. I am beginning to experience...feelings. Humans, God's creations, are important to me. But my feelings are making me doubt God and His plans." Castiel looked insecure.

Dean regarded him ponderingly.

"I watched you and Anna." The angel wrinkled his nose, as if he wasn't enjoying the thought. "She persuaded you to talk about Hell. Anna forgave you. I saw how you..."

"...had sex on the back seat? Stalker!" Dean interjected.

"...how you kissed each other. Anna was really a human. She understands God's work. I want to know what it is to be human."

Castiel looked him in the eye. Dean had the feeling that the angel could look directly into his heart. But after his confession he was sure that he got under Castiel's skin as much as Castiel got under his.

"I have decided to give up my Grace. I want to fall from Heaven and become a human," Castiel said decisively.

"Cas."

"Nobody knows yet."

"But won't they find you?" Dean asked, worried.

"They didn't pursue Anna until she became aware of what power she possessed," answered the angel. "I came to say goodbye."

"Wonderful. When it gets really fun, Castiel leaves the stage."

"I'm making my own decision, before someone someone takes it away from me," answered Cas. He looked like he was entirely resolved.

Dean closed the small distance between them and hugged Castiel like he had hugged only Sam before, with his arms around the slender body, pulling it tightly against him. For a moment he asked himself whether a dreamed hug was just as real as one in reality. Only seconds later, the angel laid his hands on Dean's back and returned the gesture. For his first hug, he was doing everything right.


	2. Jimmy

Part Two: Jimmy

Upon waking, Dean thought of Graceland and Castiel. He swung his legs out of bed and thought about what he could do, but absolutely nothing came to him.

“Cas,” Dean called out in the room. “Cas!” He waited awhile on the edge of the bed, looked furtively about him, and pursed his lips sullenly when he got no answer. Finally, he trotted into the bathroom, showered and dressed for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

If the angel had fallen from Heaven today, it would be nine months before he was born. Maybe not even that, if the Apocalypse obliterated humanity from the face of the Earth first.

Dean remembered how they'd located Anna's Grace and fetched his laptop from the trunk, where it caught his attention that Sam had taken some weapons from him. In the motel room, he searched online for meteor and lightning strikes, or some such unusual natural occurrence, something similar to how Anna's fall had marked her crash site; at first only within the state he was in, then widening the search to the USA and finally worldwide.

“Fuck, meteor shower observed over Siberia...great landing spot, Cas,” murmured Dean grimly. He decided to look again later, Castiel probably hadn't landed at all yet, or the news of a natural phenomenon hadn't reached the internet. He only hoped that the angel was not dead or being tortured.

Full of impatience, Dean paced around the motel room until his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything solid for a long time. He gathered his things and handed in his key, as he was sure he wasn't going to return. After a filling meal, Dean's thoughts drifted once again to Castiel's whereabouts. First he'd lost Sam, and now Castiel. When it came to the latter, he couldn't be satisfied without further information.

Dean was driving aimlessly around in the Impala when an idea came to him. He parked in the parking lot of a supermarket and walked a few metres on foot until there was no one in his general vicinity.

“Anna,” he called, and looked towards the sky. “Anna, if you can hear me, I need your help.” He waited briefly and looked behind him. “Cas said he's...he's going to fall from Heaven. Like you. I need to find him, before the others do and kill him. Anna. Please.”

“Dean.”

He whirled around. Before him stood the pretty, red-haired Angel, whom not very long ago he had liked very much. At first glance, she hadn't changed a bit, and yet after her return to Heaven she seemed to him more distant, more angelic.

“Anna! Have you seen Cas? Has he fallen already?”

“Castiel has left the human vessel. I haven't found him, but Castiel in on Earth, he's just covered his tracks well,” answered Anna, stepping closer.

“The vessel?” Dean asked, irritated. He'd completely forgotten that that body didn't belong to Castiel at all, but rather had been possessed – just like with demons. In his thoughts, the angel had been one with the body, since he had never seem him differently. “Where is he? Maybe he knows what Cas had planned.”

“He is home in Pontiac, Illinois.”

Dean rubbed his chin with his fingers. “That's two days with the Impala. At least.” He looked at Anna. “Can you zap me to him?”

Anna touched her hand to Dean's arm. “I too want to know if he is safe.”

A moment later they found themselves both on a footpath in front of a house. Anna said goodbye to Dean, since she didn't want to lead anyone to him, but promised to keep looking for Castiel and to give him the downlow if she should find him.

Dean climbed the few steps to the veranda. The house was in good condition and reminded him of all the suburbs in which he'd wished to live as a young boy. The sign above the doorbell said that a family called Novak lived here. Dean was about to ring the bell when he realised that the door was ajar.

He gave the door a light push and stepped soundlessly inside. Of course, Dean's weapons were lying safe and dry in his car in another state. He bit his tongue, stifling a curse, as he heard something from the room to the right of the door.

The man, Castiel's former vessel, picked himself up from the floor and grabbed the first thing available that he could use as a weapon: a small, heavy statue. “Clear off, demon!” he hissed.

Dean saw the two corpses, a girl and a woman, lying in their own blood on the floor. There were blood sprays all over the furniture and wooden floor. Two chairs lay tipped over by the dining table; a fight had obviously taken place.

“I'm not a demon, Ca–” answered Dean, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. “I'm Dean. A friend of Castiel's.”

“Castiel,” he echoed. He looked thoughtful for a moment. Then his facial expression changed, eyebrows coming together wrathfully as he remembered who he had to thank for everything. “He's not here anymore. My name is Jimmy Novak.” He lowered the statue in his hand and turned towards his family.

Dean came closer. He saw the obliterated salt lines on the floor and concluded that Jimmy still knew how to protect himself from demons. Upon nearing him, he saw a dead man behind the dining table; a bit farther behind, a bloody kitchen knife. Presumably the man had been possessed by a demon.

“They murdered my family,” said Jimmy.

“I'm sorry.”

Jimmy looked up briefly, but said nothing.

“We should disappear, before they come back. And they will come back.”

Jimmy cowered on the floor next to his dead wife Amelia. He touched her face, felt the warm skin under his fingers. With her closed eyes, she looked peaceful, as if she'd only nodded off and would wake at any moment.

“I won't come with you. They're dead. In this past year I've been shot and stabbed and healed. My body's been catapulted from one place to the next, and that's not even the worst. The worst is that Amelia and Claire are dead. Why should I want to flee?”

“Jimmy, they're going to torture you to get you to spill everything Castiel knew,” Dean warned.

He said to Dean bitterly, “Castiel promised to protect them.”

“He would have protected them if he could've.”

“They should take me. I know nothing. I remember little of what happened in this past year.” Jimmy directed his words to Dean. “I saw through my eyes, but they no longer belonged to me. I was trapped in my own body.”

“I'm sorry about what happened to you and your family. Angels are assholes, but Castiel is different, he wouldn't have allowed them to die if he could have prevented it. Castiel's vanished. Can you remember what happened?” implored Dean.

“I know nothing.” Jimmy shrugged his shoulders reluctantly. He took his wife's hand and kissed her, unconsciously folding her hands as he laid her back down. He stroked his daughter with one hand, which he allowed to linger over her blonde hair.

Dean, who could only see Jimmy's back, carefully suggested, “Maybe you'll remember something if you give yourself time.”

Dean contemplated calling Bobby, who surely knew more mediums like Pamela who could help spark Jimmy's memory. However, something inside him baulked at that, as he didn't believe Bobby could explain what was wrong with him. Even he didn't know what he wanted, how to help himself. Accusations – even from Bobby – were something he didn't want to hear right now.

He was put at ease when he saw that Jimmy was standing up. He still wore the same clothes, the same trenchcoat, that immediately made him think of Castiel. Even his unhappy facial expression looked like Castiel's.

They took Amelia's white Honda, parked on the driveway. Jimmy readily relinquished the keys to Dean and dwelled on his thoughts while Dean drove them back to his car. They took a rest-stop in a restaurant. Dean watched Jimmy consume enormous burgers; his appetite was, despite the tragedy, unabated – he was virtually starving. During the meal, Dean tried to winkle more information out of him, but the turn-out was pretty poor.

In the night, Jimmy lay in bed in his clothes, completely exhausted and hopeless. Dean observed him with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a peculiar feeling in his belly. He looked like Castiel, but he moved and spoke differently. His face spoke volumes as they talked, whereas the angel had maintained his stoic demeanour almost constantly, but nevertheless there had been moments in which Castiel had seemed very human to Dean. Jimmy's presence confused him, because he knew only the angel in this body. It was very unfamiliar to see the same body and yet not the same person at his side.

Dean knocked back his glass, opened his laptop and searched anew for a natural occurrence that would indicate Castiel's crash into the Earth.

At first morning light, unbeknownst to Jimmy, Dean had called Anna, but had received no answer. On that day they, put a large portion of road behind them.

In the evening, Jimmy sat at the table in his boxers and a T-shirt he had borrowed from Dean. He had felt distinctly rumpled after he'd woken up in the morning, still in his things, and had been thankful for fresh clothes. Jimmy was ready to talk with Dean today – and to get drunk. Without asking, he helped himself to Dean's alcohol supply.

“Do you know how overwhelming it was when Castiel spoke to me? An angel spoke to me! To me! I could barely believe it. It was proof. There is a God. Nothing could make a believer happier.” Jimmy's eyes lit up. He was already slightly tipsy and was starting to really gain momentum.

“That was before you knew that angels aren't all Matt Damon and Ben Affleck,” guessed Dean.

Jimmy ignored Dean's comment. “Oh man, I don't remeber when I last drank alcohol anymore. It feels...great.” He laughed hysterically, downed the rest in one gulp, then hissed through his teeth. The whiskey burned superbly. “If I had to choose between God...God, his angels, his lackeys or my family, then I would choose my family. I couldn't bury them, not that it would do anything for me if they lay in God's holy cemetery or not – their souls have gone.”

In a chatty mood, he began to talk about Claire, his daughter, and how it had been when she was a baby. Often, he'd walked naked through the house with her in his arms, because she loved direct skin contact and fell asleep more quickly like that. Jimmy talked about farts and diapers and a new mattress, which was too much information for Dean. He must have been a proud father.

Dean tried to smoothly change the subject, noticing how much talking about his family was getting to him, but it was too late. One moment, Jimmy was still smiling; the next, the first tears were suddenly rolling down his cheeks. “I'm never going to see them again,” he uttered, and snivelled dreadfully. Dean gazed at him powerlessly, but Jimmy didn't stop, so Dean stood from his chair and flung his arms around the other's torso.

Sobbing, Jimmy laid his head on Dean's shoulder. His entire body shook with distress.

“Shh, shh...” whispered Dean. He patted his back with one hand until he slowly calmed down.

Jimmy apologised for his dramatic scene. He gave Dean a small smile that warned he might easily start crying again, but then he recovered himself.

Somewhat croakily he said, “I wish I'd never passed Castiel's tests.”

“Cas would have saved them if he could.”

“I should have said no.”

Abashed, Dean stared at his hands. “Castiel keeps his promises.”

Jimmy nodded wryly. He held still and stared into his glass. “I would kill myself if it meant that I'd see them in Heaven, but suicides go to Hell. But even that isn't certain. Not after you get to know God's angels...”

“Don't you believe in God anymore?”

Worn out, Jimmy laid his head in his hands and briefly shut his eyes. He'd believed in God since he was a boy. And he still did, only God hadn't believed in him, in humanity or even His angels. God had made himself a new Paradise somewhere, and His old creation had faded into obscurity.

“I don't know,” he answered Dean, and demanded a refill. Dean poured generously for Jimmy and himself. The whiskey warmed him from within and made him feel a bit as if he were wrapped in cotton wool. With a mellow smile, he asked Dean about God, who shrugged.

“Guess the guy up there's not especially inclined to talk to me – and me neither. I broke the fucking first seal. Set the Apocalypse in motion.” Dean drank a large gulp.

“Castiel was...” Jimmy searched for the right word. “...overwhelmed. Shocked. It was one of the strongest feelings I can remember. You were lying in hospital, seriously injured by Alistair, who they – Castiel and Uriel – had sicked you on. Castiel felt powerless, because he hadn't been able to help you.”

Dean was silent. He'd hit his nadir that day, tears had flowed. Not even Castiel's trust in him had been able to help him at that time, even if he had been happy to wake up to find him at the side of his hospital bed. Sam had...not been an option. Since Dean had returned from Hell, their relationship had gotten worse and, at some point, Castiel had taken over Sam's place in Dean's heart.

The search for the angel tore him out of the hole into which he had fallen after his stay at the hospital. He needed that task. He had to pay back some of the debt, so often that Castiel had helped him and saved his life.

“Do you know what the difference between demons and angels is?” Jimmy swirled his glass in excitement, as if he were about to tell a joke. “Demons were once human, angels never were. Demons lost their humanity, angels never had the faintest clue what it meant to be human, just as little as God. Castiel is different, exceptions like him only prove the rule.”

“And now he's gone...”

Dean noticed Jimmy's staring gaze while he occupied himself with the whiskey. His silent staring became uncomfortable over time; Dean was relieved when Jimmy broke the silence.

“It almost feels like I know you.”

_Who are you saying that to?_ thought Dean.

Convinced, Jimmy declared: “I'll help you find him.”


	3. As if Newborn

Dean was rolling back and forth in his bed, drenched in sweat, before he woke. His legs were tangled in the blanket. He struggled free and swung his legs out of bed. Dean rubbed his face tiredly.

“Dean.” He turned to the other single bed in the room. Jimmy lay, quietly snoring, in his bed. In that moment, he realised the show er in the bathroom was running.

With the gun he'd bought himself on his hip, Dean crept to the bathroom and soundlessly opened the door. Behind the shower curtain he could see a female silhouette. The woman was humming softly to herself as she turned around, pulling the curtain slightly to the side and revealing Anna. “Dean.”

“I didn't expect to meet you in my shower.” said Dean, raising his eyebrows in surprise and pursing his lips suggestively. He was almost slightly disappointed that he hadn't caught sight of more of her.

“I found him. We'll meet up there.” Her naked arm glistened damply, but the note that she held out to him was, to his surprise, dry.

Dean woke with a jolt. Sluggishly, he rubbed his hand over his clammy forehead. Jimmy was sleeping like a dream in the bed next to his, but the bathroom was silent. He scrabbled groggily out of bed.

Dean went to Jimmy's bed to wake him, but instead stared at the sleeping man. His mouth was slightly open; he had totally rolled himself in the blanket. He looked so peaceful. Dean berated himself inwardly – he was still seeing Castiel in him – and tried fruitlessly to compose his feelings. Finally, he just pushed them to one side.

“Jimmy, get up! Cas is here!” Dean whispered gently. He shook Jimmy's shoulder, who grimaced. Dean needed to shake him again, more forcefully, to get a reaction.

“Please don't,” he murmured, frowning petulantly without opening his eyes and gripping his head. “Leave me alone. Need sleep.”

“Fine. If my sidekick doesn't want to...” Dean retorted. Jimmy probably hadn't understood him, but he was fine with that. He pissed, gave himself a quick wash and cleaned his teeth to get the nasty taste out of his mouth. Despite this, he only felt slightly better than Jimmy, who'd really overdone it with the alcohol yesterday. No wonder, after over a year of angelic abstinence.

Dean looked up the address on Anna's note on the internet: it looked like a small-town clinic. It wasn't even an hour away from their motel, which couldn't be a coincidence. Dean scrawled Jimmy a note. On leaving the motel room, he threw a glance behind him. Jimmy had placidly sunk once again into the land of dreams.

Outside, Dean stood for a moment and spoke toward the heavens: “If I've hurried myself now and he's a stupid baby, you owe me!”

The Honda was gradually beginning to get on his nerves, but at least Dean had found a classic rock station on the radio, which made the drive bearable.

During the trip to the clinic he wondered whether Castiel was going to come into the world there or whether he already had. He had no idea how the 'Fallen Angel' thing went. Dean had often sensed his presence before he saw him. They had a profound bond, which make him ask himself if he could recognise Castiel as a human child just as effortlessly.

The sun blazed down from the sky as he got out of the car in the parking lot. Dean went to the public entrance. Inside, he removed his sunglasses, even though he'd rather have left them on for camouflage. He headed towards the payphone on the wall, picked up the receiver and pretended to call someone.

“Anna, I'm here. Where are you?” Dean looked searchingly around him. “Anna, sweetest of all angels, show yourself already.”

“Hello, Dean,” Anna whispered into his ear.

Dean whirled around. “You angels must always be sneaking up on each other.”

“I like it here on Earth, even now I'm not a human anymore,” responded Anna, and walked away so quickly that Dean had to hurry to catch up to her. With every step she took into the clinic, Dean became more and more agitated.

“So Cas is a real boy now,” said Dean, alluding to Pinocchio. “Or a real girl.” He shrugged carelessly, but was nevertheless a bit disappointed that the angel hadn't caught his reference. By now he was really ruffled at the prospect of seeing Cas, without it having been apparent to him before. His heart pounded restlessly. Dean became nervous as he began to feel Castiel's presence; so it still worked.

“Where is he? Dean threw a fleeting glance at the panel showing the different floors. They were definitely not heading for any delivery room.

“Be patient.”

“Come on. Don't let everything be wheedled out of you. Are we meeting a woman who's pregnant with Cas? Is he being born in the emergency room? Anna!” complained Dean.

“There he is.”

“Him? Yeah, him?” Dean could see the crowd slowly dispersing. His heart beat faster. Anna stood directly in front of a young man around Dean's age. He vaguely resembled someone out of a film, with his short, tousled dark hair and his blue eyes.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at Anna in confusion. “That's him? Are you sure?” He couldn't believe it, even though he already knew the answer. His gaze wandered from her back to him. Likewise, he was staring at him through his black-rimmed glasses. Dean's cheeks burned as he came aware of the stranger's attention. That was him, Castiel, his angel.

“Hello,” he said, and appeared just as confused as Dean, who couldn't make a sound. “What...what can I do for you?” The man looked at him and adopted a friendly smile, as if he were talking with a patient.

Anna said nothing, instead laying her hand on the man's chest, who jerked in agony.

“Shit,” he swore and pressed his hand reflexively to his aching chest.

“Anna! What are you doing? You don't have to let the Terminator out immediately!” Dean hissed.

“I have burned Enochian symbols into his ribs that will protect and hide him from angels,” she explained.

The man, whose name badge read 'Joshua Attenborough', looked dumbfoundedly at them both. “What was that? Who are you?” he asked through clenched teeth.

The angel didn't reply. Anna took Dean's hand and dragged him away, so that they were soon out of sight in the overcrowded corridor. Anna didn't stop until they were outside.

“Couldn't you have warned me first? 'Hey Dean, I want to burn an angel ward into Cas Junior.' How is that even possible? Doesn't he have to wait to be born? Or at least be a baby? I don't get it.”

“Castiel was very clever. He travelled into the past, to before he ripped his Grace out of the vessel. It was a huge task to find him.” The redhead looked impressed.

“And all without DeLorean and plutonium engines.” Dean looked over his shoulder.

Anna squeezed his hand. “We both want Castiel to be safe. He is safest when we initiate no contact with him. Angels and demons aren't stupid. They could follow you or I and we would lead them directly to him.”

“That was it, then. Hi and bye.”

“I wanted you to see that he was well. Castiel wanted to be human. Experience things, feel things. Angels will never understand humans. They are cold and serve a Father who never shows himself. I envy him. For all the experiences that he's having and will have. He did it. I wish I could experience all that he is once more.” Anna smiled sadly.

Dean nodded. “That's just it. He got out,” he said, not without disappointment, even though he could understand her reasoning. “Okay, I'm cool! Cas should have his fun.”

“Eat chocolate cake.”

“Have sex.”

“Very good sex.” Anna smiled.

“Hopefully it'll work...” Dean said, slightly doubtful.

Anna laughed in amusement and told him again about her final task. “The only thing we need to do now is to find his Grace so no one else can get their hands on it.”

Meanwhile, back in the hotel, Jimmy had woken up and got dressed. He greeted Dean with a tired yawn. You could see last night's alcoholic excess in him. Dean reported that he had found Castiel and that he was well, though he forwent mentioning Anna and her markings on Castiel's ribs. Jimmy wanted to know how he'd known that he really was the angel. Dean trusted in Anna and in his instinct, his gut feeling, responding to Jimmy with the latter. When he explained about Castiel's time travel, Jimmy was all ears.

“Angels can time travel?” Jimmy asked interestedly.

“Yup. Cas is about as old as I am now. If we have any luck, his Grace will be just as untouched on Earth. You've got to give it to him, genius idea with the time travel.” Dean picked his laptop up from the table. “Let's go grab something to eat.”

“Good idea. I'm starving,” agreed Jimmy. “What is his Grace?”

“A sort of energy that makes an angel into an angel. Without it, they're a human.” Dean brought a small phial on a broken chain, in which Uriel had kept Anna's Grace before she'd ripped it from his throat, out of his duffel bag. Dean had picked up the empty glass tube from the floor of the barn and taken it with him.

“Maybe we can trap it with this somehow.”

Jimmy went outside with him to the car. He'd seen a small diner on the main road, in which they had a decent lunch, even though it was already afternoon.

In the diner they looked for a place by the window. “We should drink to Cas' successful landing,” suggested Dean.

Jimmy nodded curtly but said nothing. They ordered food when the waitress came to their table.

“What's Castiel's name now he's human?” Jimmy asked curiously.

“Joshua Attenborough.”

Jimmy asked him for the laptop so he could use it to search for Castiel's Grace. If they found his birthplace they would already be a whole lot closer to the mark. Dean gladly relinquished the research to him, which formerly had been Sam's job.

“Did you know that Joshua is the English form of Yehoshu'a? That means “God is salvation, rescue,” Jimmy remarked ironically. He had been deeply religious before everything had happened – a logical choice for Castiel.

The mad thing was, Castiel had asked his permission and Jimmy had, in fact, agreed. It had been left unsaid that the angel could do anything with his body. For the most part of Castiel's experiences, Jimmy had had no access, but the angel's especially distinct emotions hadn't escaped his notice.

Jimmy knew. He knew exactly what Castiel felt for Dean, probably before the angel himself or Dean – in case he ever saw the light – would know: Castiel was completely head over heels for his charge. Jimmy kept this fact to himself, however, and feigned a feeble memory. What could he have told him? Dean would have tried to help Castiel either way. It wasn't that he begrudged others their happiness either, since after the death of his family he himself had no hope left. No, it just didn't change anything.

Their drinks came. “What's that?” asked Jimmy, with a look at Dean's glass.

“Apple juice,” said Dean, grinning cheekily and holding his glass up to toast. Jimmy's eyes were on the screen as he raised his own. “If you don't look each other in the eyes while toasting, you'll have seven years of bad sex.”

“That's a myth,” Jimmy retorted, smirking. “It's only five years.”

Dean laughed. “To Castiel...”

“To Castiel's life,” suggested Jimmy, and Dean repeated it eagerly.

Shortly afterwards, their food came. Jimmy ate small bites from time to time and searched the internet on the side. Dean had given him the tip to look for a natural occurrence on the day of Joshua's birth.

During the meal, Dean watched him. Jimmy was absorbed in his search and now and again made a comment on it. For all intents and purposes, he didn't need him, but it was good to work with someone. The task of finding Castiel and protecting him from angels and demons was keeping Dean from falling back into his black hole. Like him, Jimmy had nothing left, since his family had been killed by demons. Dean knew exactly how he felt.

“Does a snowstorm count as a natural occurrence?” asked Jimmy.

Dean looked cluelessly at him. “No idea. Where do you start looking? We need something like the townhall clock in Back to the Future.”

“Lightning strike,” Jimmy typed, as well as the year, mumbling to himself. He'd found out Joshua's date of birth relatively quickly.

“Found something?”

“No, nothing like in Back to the Future.” Jimmy gave up and snapped the laptop closed. Afterwards he found out that Joshua worked in the psychiatric department of the town clinic and at the same time supervised a couple of groups of addicts in the community centre. With the facts, it had been child's play to find out his address, which he noted on a serviette.

Jimmy looked at Dean. “I'll need the car later. I want to buy myself a few new things. I can't walk around in this apocalyptic trench coat forever.”

“Sure, no problem.” Dean adopted his serious look. “What are you going to do when this is over?”

“I...” Jimmy stared at the empty plate before him. It appeared as though Dean had thrusted him into a possible 'afterwards' that he had until now deliberately ignored.

“Do you have family somewhere, friends that you can ask for housing?”

“My sister lives with her family in Wyoming. I haven't spoken to her in an eternity...she'll be in for a surprise.”

“Okay. That's good.”


End file.
